


When Words Fall

by consultingdetectivesherlockh



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:15:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingdetectivesherlockh/pseuds/consultingdetectivesherlockh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omegle RP turned fic.<br/>I'm melting from it, make it stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Words Fall

********  
  


Help. I've fallen, and I can't get up. -SH

****

Is that a serious statement or are you imitating one of those silly telly ads? -JW

****

Both. -SH

****

It was more of a joke. -SH

****

Ah, yes. Well. I believe it's a bit soon to be making jokes, isn't it? -JW

****

I don't believe so. -SH

****

I am alive after all. -SH

****

This is very true, but jokes still aren't quite funny yet. -JW

****

Why not? -SH

****

Sherlock, you almost died. I don't think jokes regarding that will /ever/ be funny. -JW

****

I was fine. -SH

****

Do we have to talk about this? -JW

****

Yes. -SH

****

Why? -JW

****

It still is a major focus of your nightmares. -SH

****

Yes, it is. That doesn't mean it has to be a topic of conversation. My nightmares are my business, aren't they? -JW

****

Yes. -SH

****

Alright then. But you're still going to insist we talk about it, aren't you? -JW

****

Yes. -SH

****

Careful, Sherlock, you're getting predictable. -JW

****

You are my weak-point, John. -SH

****

And you mine. I didn't expect you to admit something like that. You're getting soft. -JW

****

Heaven forbid that I'm ever soft when it comes to my only friend. -SH

****

Only friend? Are you still sure of that? -JW

****

Yes. -SH

****

Rather, the only one that matters. -SH

****

You know, that really means something. Thank you. I don't suppose I have many friends, either. It seems as if all we've got is each other, hm? -JW

****

Yes. But that's enough for me. -SH

****

I'd have to agree. -JW

****

I thought you were one to enjoy the company of other sentient beings? -SH

****

I do, but none of it ever seems to last. You know, I like to say I enjoy being around others, but it seems I'm at my happiest at home in theflat with just you. -JW

****

And I with you. -SH

****

In your expert opinion, how long do think it will take the nightmares to stop? -JW

****

You will need to assure your subconscious that I am really alive. When you do that, they will stop. I'm surprised they didn't stop when I returned.

-SH

****

I'm not very good at communicating with my subconscious. Seems I haven't quite mastered that yet. -JW

****

That's a shame. It's rather helpful to have that skill. -SH

****

Yes, well, we can't all be Sherlock Holmes, can we? -JW

****

That would be dull. -SH

****

Then you wouldn't be special anymore. And I wouldn't be able to make fun of you for not knowing that the earth revolves around the sun. -JW

****

I'm never letting that go. -JW

****

Please drop it. Who cares what celestial object we orbit? That is

unimportant to my work. -SH

****

I know that. I just enjoy bringing that up every now and then. All in

good fun. -JW

****

Alright. -SH

****

Alright? You let that go rather quickly. -JW

****

I did make a bit-not-good joke about falling not twenty minutes

ago. -SH

****

That is very true. I would definitely stay away from those. -JW

****

I will in the future. -SH

****

So what are you up to, then? You've been gone awhile. -JW

****

I successfully dismantled Moriarty's web of crime. -SH

****

Completely? -JW

****

Yes. -SH

 

Moran was the last person I had to take care of. -SH

 

Hm. How did that go? -JW

 

Good. He was the sniper trained on you. -SH

 

Ah, so we confirmed that. I knew you had had suspicions, but...

****

Well. I'm glad he's gone. -JW

 

As am I. -SH

 

I'm glad that you're safe. -SH

 

And I'm glad you're safe. I'm glad I'm safe, as well, but you are of more importance considering the previous events. -JW

 

Previous events? -SH

 

The fall. -JW

 

Oh. -SH

 

Oh? -JW

 

I didn't realize that it meant that much to you. -SH

 

What did you think my nightmares have been about? -JW

 

The fall. -SH

 

Well, then obviously it meant a lot. -JW

 

I suppose. -SH

 

Is that what your nightmares have been about? -SH

 

Yes. -JW

 

Oh. -SH

 

I'm sorry. -SH

 

Sorry? There's nothing to be sorry for. -JW

 

I traumatized you. -SH

 

Yes, but you did what you had to do. I understand. -JW

 

Thank you for understanding. I expected you to be angrier. -SH

 

I was for a long time. But by the point you got back, I suppose I was so relieved that I couldn't really be angry. -JW

 

I've missed you, John. -SH

 

And I you. I suppose that's evident, though. -JW

 

Very much so. -SH

 

Just...don't go falling off anymore buildings anytime soon, alright?  -JW

 

Alright. -SH

 

Will you be home soon? Not to be smothering, but I'm still having difficulty remembering that you're alive and safe. -JW

 

Yes, John. -SH

 

Right. Sorry, I'll try not to be such a mother. -JW

 

It's fine. -SH

 

I wasn't completely honest. My nightmares are about the fall, but most of them are about Moriarty. I still have trouble believing he's

dead. -JW

 

I saw him shoot himself. -SH

 

I find it hard to believe that he is alive. -SH

 

Yes, and I saw you fall off of a building. -JW

 

No, you didn't. -SH 

You missed the impact. -SH

 

Yes, but... I still don't understand how you did it. -JW

 

I jumped into the truck that was parked outside of St. Bart's. -SH

 

The bystanders were paid to make sure you couldn't get a sound examination of my body. -SH

 

That wasn't even my blood. -SH

 

I know, you've told me, but it's all just...hard to believe, I suppose.

-JW

 

Why? -SH

 

It was easy to organize and perform. -SH

 

It's hard to believe because up until the day you returned, I was convinced that my best friend was dead. I had seen you fall out that building, had spent  every single day at your grave, Sherlock. It's not something you easily get over. -JW

****

I'm back now. You don't need to go back there again. -SH

****

I know it. But I still have the urge to, you know? I'll drive by there and I'll have to stop myself from telling the taxi driver to stop. Time is the only way to heal, I suppose. -JW

****

Is there a way that I can help? -SH

****

I don't believe so. Thank you, though. -JW

 

You're welcome, although I'm not sure why you are thanking me. -SH

****

For offering to help. For just...being here. Just the fact that you /came back/ has saved me from quite a bit of trauma. -JW

****

Is there any way I can relieve you of any other trauma? -SH

****

I really don't think so. I can't think of anything you could do. -JW

****

Is the door to the flat unlocked? -SH

****

No. I started locking it and I suppose the habit has stuck. -JW

****

I'm almost to the flat. I recommend unlocking it. -SH

 

It's unlocked now. -JW

 

Thank you. -SH

 

Of course. -JW

 

May I ask why you are still having difficulty remembering

that I am alive and safe? -SH

****

I guess I was convinced so heavily that you were dead, that now that you're alive, well... I just can't get used to the idea. It took forever for me to finally realize you were gone, and now... It'll just take some time. -JW

****

I suppose only time can help. -SH

****

I believe so. -JW

****

What did you do at my grave? -SH

****

Talked, mostly. To you. Mrs. Hudson and Molly would leave flowers every now and then, so I let them take care of that.

-JW

 

About what? -SH

****

Sometimes how I felt. I told you how angry and confused I was. When I got over that, idle things. My day. Anything to keep me sane. -JW

 

You could have texted me. -SH

 

I most likely would have answered. -SH

****

Yes, and I wouldn't have believed it was you. -JW

****

Why not? You believe me now. -SH

****

I don't know. All of it just seems like a bad dream at this point. I wasn't thinking clearly, anyways. -JW

****

Are you alright now? -SH

****

Better. I wouldn't say I'm alright, but I'm better. -JW

****

Would my return make you alright? -SH

****

If anything could, that would. -JW

****

John, can I tell you something? -SH

****

Of course. -JW

****

The concept of sentiment is not entirely foreign to me. However, I haven't ever felt this sort of attachment to another person. I believe that the attachment may be better labeled as "love". -SH

****

Or extreme adoration. -SH

****

I love you, too. You made that far too complicated. -JW

****

Feelings are complicated, John. -SH

****

For you, maybe. -JW

****

They are confusing to nearly everyone. -SH

****

Hm. I can see that. For me, they aren't, so I suppose everyone works a little differently. -JW

****

Yes. Everyone is different. You're a romantic. Love is easy for you to understand. I'm not. -SH

****

Makes sense. Is there anything I can do to help you understand? Since we've both been offering to help each other quite a bit tonight, it seems. -JW

****

What do two mates who love each other do once they've acknowledged their feelings? -SH

****

..I suppose that depends on the people. Come on, Sherlock, surely this isn't something I need to explain to you. -JW

****

I know. I'd rather hear it you say it, though. -SH

****

I believe it puts a new commitment between them. It breaks down any barriers that were there before. Once feelings have been acknowledged, you're more free to act on them. And none of what I'm saying is making any sense. I don't know. As much as I am a romantic, I'm not very good at this sort of thing. -JW

 

It makes sense. -SH

 

I'm here. -SH

 

...Come on up, then. -JW

****

See you in a bit. -SH

****

John set the phone down beside him, folding his hands in his lap as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He wasn't prepared for this. Nothing could prepare him for this. He had been talking to Sherlock for quite some time now, but that hadn't changed anything. Seeing him would be like seeing a ghost. He was determined, though, to remain calm. That was his plan, anyways. He picked up his tea and took one last sip of it, finishing it off before he set the cup back down on the coffee table. Perfect. His hands were shaking.

****

Sherlock took a deep breath as he dredged up the stairs. He was anxious. (Why? John was his flatmate..friend..love. He shouldn't nervous to talk to him. He should be ecstatic, in fact.) Sherlock was dragged his feet up sluggishly. He attempted to mentally prepare himself for the conversation that was sure to ensue when he entered the flat. He doubted that John would be violent, but it was a possibility. Perhaps he wanted to discuss when what said over text. (Would he try to discuss our feelings? Average British blokes avoided the subject of emotions, and Sherlock avoided them even more. What would he say? Should he tell John that he loved him when he walked in? Did John mean what he said?). The floor creaked under Sherlock's steps. As he reached the door, he felt his chest tighten. (Nervous? Why? It was John. He needed to calm down.) Sherlock's head banged against the door softly. He cringed and prayed that John didn't hear him. He needed another moment to organize his thoughts.

****

John normally would've heard the creaking of the floorboard, but he was far too consumed with his thoughts. He was trying to calm some of the nervousness he was feeling, though he knew it was of no use. Anxiety. Stress. That was the only thing he could process, and it definitely wasn't helping. His foot tapped out a quick rhythm on the floorboard, and his eyes were trained on the door, though he wasn't really looking at it. He was far too focused on trying to keep his heart from exploding from his chest. Because somehow, he still believed this could be some sick, twisted joke. Like Moriarty's men were playing a game with him or something. The only way he would truly know that Sherlock Holmes was back would be to see him with his two own eyes. And what would even guarantee that was enough? He hardly knew what was real and what wasn't anymore.

****

Sherlock took a final breath and opened the door. The flat hadn't changed much since he had 'died'. The holes in the wall were filled, and the scrappy yellow smiley face was scrubbed off. He searched the room for John, although it wasn't hard to find him. He was tapping rhythmically on the floor (nervous, too, then) and the tremor in his hand had returned. Sherlock could see that John was afraid of something. What, though? Sherlock understood the obvious anxiety, but not the fear. Hadn't they cleared the air of all emotional baggage? John seemed to be afraid of Sherlock. He took a few steps toward him, cautious even though he knew now that no punches were going to be thrown.

****

John's eyes snapped into focus as soon as the door began to open, and just like that, he was on his feet, fists clenched tightly against his sides. And he was alright, for a moment. His eyes widened and his face paled, but there was Sherlock, standing in front of him. And suddenly, everything was okay. He's alive, John, he repeated several times in his head. And he almost opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't really process anything. He wanted to say something, but though he had thought he was okay, he actually wasn't. Not at all. A tear formed at the corner of one eye, and then another. He hadn't expected this. He had expected possibly anger, but there had been none at all. So he had settled for joy, but that obviously hadn't come. Because now, the tears were coming, and he wasn't going to be able to stop them. His bottom lip trembled for a moment as he considered speaking, but he knew no words would be able to be understood. He felt pathetic, but as he opened his mouth to take a breath, his breath hitched sharply and it only added to the increasing tears on his face. So he made a gut decision. He moved forward and latched onto Sherlock, his hands fisting in the fabric of his coat, his tear-streaked face pressing against his shoulder as he closed his eyes and tried to convince himself that this was real.

****

Sherlock stood still and watched the spectacle that was John Watson. He was crying. (No, that wasn't right. This wasn't crying; it was downright sobbing.) Sherlock's eyes followed the doctor and he grasped his coat like a life jacket. Sherlock placed a hand on his back and rubbed soothing circles into John's curved spine. He nearly joined him in crying. (John's tearful expression was heartbreaking.) What was wrong? Sherlock laid his head on top of John's and kissed it briefly before speaking. "It's alright. I'm back. I won't leave again. Please stop crying."

****

"I-I c-can't," he managed to choke out between sobs, refusing to let go. He's here. He's real. This isn't a dream. It was hard to convince himself, and he still hadn't done it yet. It continued on like that for a few moments more before he finally quieted a bit, the sobs reduced to silent crying. It took all the strength he had to pull back, his hands releasing Sherlock's coat hesitantly. He looked up at him, eyes red and puffy now, his breath still coming in shallow gasps. "You're back," he finally managed in a whisper, as if he were still trying to make himself believe it. It was all he could do to keep from getting reduced to sobs again.

****

"I'm back," he said, reaching for John's hands. "I'm here." He pulled John close to him again. He smelled of tea and sugar and shampoo home. Sherlock was now the one desperately holding on to his friend. He understood why John was crying; he needed to make sure that this wasn't another dream induced by loneliness and wish-fulfillment. John was trembling under his touch, as he probably was under John's. He willed John to calm down, to stop crying and smile like he used to. Sherlock brought his lips to John's briefly, and hugged him tighter against his chest. “I’m staying.”

 


End file.
